Collaboration
by Nimbus Llewelyn
Summary: The title is in lieu of anything better. Lestrade asks Sherlock to investigate some interesting murders. No real pairings except maybe some Janto flirting and tension between Owen and Gwen. PLEASE Read and Review. Summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Collaboration**

**A/N: I own neither Torchwood or Sherlock, both are owned by the mighty Beeb. I'm just mucking around with the characters. Set during Countrycide (Torchwood Season 1 episode 6) and post 'A Study in Pink' (Sherlock Season 1 episode 1)**

Dr John Watson walked into his shared flat, and saw Sherlock playing the violin. He winced at the horrible squeaking noise, then was rendered speechless when Sherlock stood up abruptly and said, "John, pack your things we're going to Wales."

As Sherlock strode past him, carrying a small bag, John caught him and said, "One question. Why in God's name are we going to Wales?"

"Lestrade wants me to investigate a series of disappearances in a certain area of Wales. What makes it interesting is that these disappearances happen in bursts about every ten years and no corpse has ever been found. We also might meet a strange team, an obscure branch of the government that even Mycroft doesn't know much about, which needless to say vexes him greatly." Sherlock delivered all of this in a matter of fact tone and wearing a slight smile, most likely at Mycroft's discomfiture, then said, "Hurry up. Our train leaves in half an hour."

They took the train to Cardiff, then hired a car and drove to some place out in the welsh countryside. "This should be the place." Sherlock said "No one living for miles around. Yet this is the rough site of the disappearances according to the information Mycroft gave me. I may not like him much but he is usually right about this sort of thing."

"Someone got here before us." John said shortly, pointing at an erect tent about 20 feet away.

"Yes, that would probably be the obscure branch of government Mycroft doesn't know about. The large black SUV with the word 'Torchwood' stencilled onto the side gives it away a little." Sherlock said dryly. "Also the definitely non civilian or mainstream military equipment on the front seat helps."

"Torchwood? I thought that was destroyed the battle of Canary Wharf 3 years ago. A friend of mine died there. He had been seconded to them for a couple of months. They found his body 3 days after the battle. It was half cyberman." John said quietly reliving memories of the day metal men and pepper pot shaped flying monsters devastated London. Thankfully they mostly fought each other.

"Really?" Sherlock said, utterly disinterested. As John turned to berate him about his total lack of tact and empathy, he found himself looking down the barrel of a revolver. He raised his hands slowly and looked into the face of the man who was pointing a revolver at him. The man was relatively tall and was strongly built, wearing a second world war RAF coat oddly enough, with a well formed face and blue eyes that were currently rather icy. Not someone to be antagonised. He turned to Sherlock, who was scrutinising the man thoughtfully, then groaned inwardly as Sherlock began to deliver one of his 'I-know-more-about –you-than-you-do' speeches.

"You are far older than you look." Sherlock said abruptly. Instead of looking vaguely confused and insulted, the man raised a solitary eyebrow as if impressed. "And how did you work that out?" the man asked, revealing a strong American accent.

"Simple. Your gun is a Webley revolver, Second World War issue, as is your coat which has the disinctive markings of an RAF captain. Both show signs of very good care and that suggests you are either a time traveller or have achieved some kind of immortality. They can't be family heirlooms, as the jacket is fitted perfectly and the gun shows very small scratches at the top of the barrel where you cleaned it in a certain way each time, also the holster is very worn in a similar manner, meaning that unless you are an absolute carbon copy of your ancestors in every respect, the gun has always been yours and the jacket was made for you. Lastly, your eyes. They have a quality that I have never seen before." Sherlock seemed genuinely curious, John noted with interest. "It is similar to veterans eyes yet, there is something more. You were married, yet keep the ring and put it on every now and then, as shown by then faded pale bits of skin on various fingers of your right hand suggesting that your love one died, probably quite a while ago. I am interested in that device on your arm, I have never seen it's like."

The gun was lowered and Sherlock was subjected to a penetrating stare. He naturally returned it. After a couple of minutes, John coughed politely. They both turned.

"In case you hadn't noticed, we are meant to be investigating a series of disappearances. Or at least Sherlock and I are, and I presume that you are as well Mr..." John said, slightly exasperatedly.

"Harkness, Captain Jack Harkness." The tall man said. "And you're right, we're investigating the disappearances. Who are you? The last time I heard that sort of tone it was from someone who was...remarkable, and very strange." The tone was suddenly guarded, as if the man was assessing them to see if he could trust them with some information that he was hiding. "Do you have an old watch? Strange designs on it, you don't normally notice it?" Jack's grip on the revolver tightened.

"No." Sherlock said.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes and this is my partner, no not in that way," He continued, not missing a beat as Jack's eyebrows rose and he grinned, "John Watson".

Jack thought for a second then snapped his fingers. "The world's only consulting detective and a former army medic, served in Afghanistan, discharged from the army with a psychosomatic limp, which I see you've shaken off, well done by the way, and according to your ex therapist, 'trust issues'." When he saw their dumbfounded looks, or rather, Johns dumbfounded look and Sherlock's solitary raised eyebrow.

"A member of my team is an ex police officer, and mentioned that whenever they collaborated with Scotland Yard they always bitched about a certain Sherlock Holmes. You get almost as many complaints as we do, which is saying something. When John was mentioned in the reports on the Study in Pink, we decided to take a look." Sherlock gave Watson a long suffering look. "Kinda ironic you don't know about the solar system. We work with things...from outside it usually."

"Aliens. I thought as much. I assume the rest of your team carry guns, and as they are almost certainly as non general issue as yours, then it would show they do not work in any usual form of the security forces, and any alien weaponry would be too noticeable. It would also explain your presence, as you think that aliens are behind these disappearances, as would the rather large pile of unusual technology which I saw through the window of your interestingly decorated SUV." Sherlock stated in his explaining-to-lesser-mortals tone.

Jack turned to John and asked, "Does he do that all the time?" John nodded.

"And he plays the violin at 3 in the bloody morning. Or not play the violin, more like torture it." John said bitterly.

Jack laughed shortly. "I know the type. Does things strangely? Such as inventing the banana daiquiri 2 centuries early."

"He has a head in the fridge."

"Explains things at 100 miles per hour, leaving out the vital bits and expects you to understand, then acts as if you've grown horns when you don't?"

"Of course he does!"

Both cackled for a few moments then turned at Sherlock's incredulous look.

" Honestly, what is it like in your little minds? Blathering on about all sorts of nonsense when there are interesting murders to solve!" He asked.

Jack tilted his head. "Are you sure about the watch?" he asked sceptically

"Yes!" Sherlock said, exasperated and confused, a combination he virulently disliked. It prevented rational thought.

He composed himself. "Anyway, have you found anything yet?"

"No, we-" Jack paused as something came in over the comms.

"Yes?"

"_We got something Jack and you are not going to like this. We're just inside the woods." _ Owen said.

"On my way." Jack ended the call. "Well," he said turning to Sherlock, "I think we have something."


	2. Chapter 2: Things get messy

**A/N: From here on in it gets a bit more AU for Torchwood. I own nothing.**

As they strode up towards the woods, Jack scrutinised Sherlock. Disturbingly Timelord like personality apart, this man reminded him strongly of someone. He just couldn't pin it down... Aha, that was it. It sort of made sense now he thought about it.

"Hey Sherlock, do you have a brother called Mycroft?" Jack asked

"Unfortunately, yes I do." Was Sherlock's brisk response.

Jack began to chuckle gently, then he burst into full blown laughter as he entered the clearing, earning disapproving looks from the team and a bemused look from Sherlock. Watson just shook his head, guessing the source of Jacks amusement. When he saw the mangled body, he sobered up. He would find out how the strange and brilliant man next to him was kith and kin to the most powerful man in the country, ruler in all but name. He made the necessary introductions, pointing out each team member as he introduced them.

"This is Owen Harper our medic, Toshiko Sato our tech genius, Gwen Cooper our police liaison and Ianto Jones, general support and person in charge of making sure we don't mess all our kit up." Each team member gave a variation on a greeting, Owen merely grunted, Gwen nodded slightly warily, Tosh smiled, and Ianto nodded politely.

"Team, this is Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, sharp as a tack, and younger brother of that man at the home office, Mycroft, the one who actually runs the country, and Dr Watson, former army medic in Afghanistan."

Sherlock gave the barest of nods, more interested in Gwen and Owen, looking from one to the other with a look that he had last worn when he had implied that Anderson and Sergeant Sally Donavan were having an affair. Watson nodded in acknowledgment, smiled politely and as Sherlock opened his mouth, Watson snapped his hand out still smiling, covering Sherlock's mouth, who to his great surprise subsided. Gwen looked gratefully at Watson and mouthed 'Thank you' at him when everyone else was looking away.

"He always does that I'm afraid." Watson whispered apologetically. "He's very observant and a sociopath so he doesn't think about the effect of what he says and he lacks a complete moral compass but he's a good man. I think. Oh, he knew your boss was immortal almost as soon as we met him."

Gwen's eyes widened. "Don't tell_ anyone _that!" She hissed. "Jack keeps it under wraps, I only know because I saw him shot in the head. He does die, just not for very long; he comes back to life within about 30 seconds see." John looked taken aback, then nodded. It made sense. If it was him he would hardly wish to broadcast the fact he was immortal.

"John, come over here, I want you to examine the body." Sherlock called.

"Oi, I've already examined it." Owen broke in irritably as Watson wandered over.

"So?" Sherlock said dismissively "John, what have you got?" he asked, as Owen stood dumbfounded, with the rest of the team sniggering at his expense. No one had talked to _Dr_ Owen Harper like that for a very long time.

"Nothing yet, but if you would give me a moment to have a look I might find something." Was Watson's testy reply. Honestly, he thought, he expects me to see everything in a matter of seconds, just like he does. Not all of us are high functioning sociopaths, he thought at Sherlock reproachfully as he knelt down to examine the body, accepting a pair of surgical gloves from Owen gratefully.

The body was an absolute mess, he thought. Even the Taliban at their most ruthless had never done anything like this. Not that he had seen or heard about anyway. The flesh had been stripped from the bone and internal organs had been removed, effectively leaving only the skeleton. Wait, what was that? He looked closer. Nicks, almost certainly from a knife, a large one, so probably a cleaver. He wanted another opinion on this, because what it suggested was horrible. Something, or god forbid, _someone_ was hunting humans as prey. He beckoned Owen over. The Londoner walked over, still vaguely irritated at being dismissed by Sherlock.

"What?" He asked with a tinge of impatience. More than anything else he disliked the idea that the older man, albeit one with extensive combat experience, had spotted something he had missed. Watson pointed mutely at the faint marks. Owen squinted at them for a moment then his eyes widened and he looked up at Watson's enquiring face. A moment of understanding passed between the two doctors.

"Jack, Sherlock, come over here a sec." Owen said, still staring grimly at the mutilated cadaver.

The two men exchanged a brief look, then crouched down next to the body. Owen pointed to the nicks.

"These look like someone has taken a knife of some sort to the body." Owen said grimly.

"And that suggests that someone or something is hunting humans for the meat." Watson finished.

Sherlock looked at the nicks with evident interest, then said, "Have you got any form of identification?"

"No, we would have to wait until we got DNA test results back." Jack said heavily.

"Hmm, well whatever your killer is, they act like a human. These disappearances have been happening every ten years. The fact they haven't been investigated suggests some collusion with the police. Lestrade did say the report had been archived in Cardiff and it only came to light because the police were digitising the reports." Sherlock said thoughtfully, causing Jack to turn his head like an owl on a turntable.

"We didn't know that." Jack said sharply, looking at Gwen who looked askance at the thought of the level of the cover up on such a scale among her former colleagues. Owen covered up the body again to protect it from flies and the like. Jack turned to Gwen to ask her about this when all further avenues of enquiry were temporarily cut off as the distinctive noise of the SUV coming to life was heard. Everyone raced down to where the SUV had been left. They arrived just in time to see Torchwoods pride, joy and more importantly, only method of transport leave the scene, with the unknown driver having just destroyed the camp.

When Sherlock and Watson arrived on the scene, recriminations were being handed out, with Tosh, the techie speaking furiously to Owen who was asking her irritably to leave it out, while Ianto was fiddling with a PDA. Once he had finished, he said that the SUV was in fact 3.4 miles away and was parked.

"This has all the hallmarks of a trap," Tosh said worriedly.

"And we're going to walk into it anyway." Watson said resignedly. "We still have the hire car." He said, gesturing vaguely at the Ford that was parked next to the road.

"Oh no." Owen said firmly. "I would rather walk." He added emphatically.

"Go ahead Owen. More room for the rest of us." Tosh said sweetly, as everyone trudged towards the car. Owen glared after her half heartedly, then followed. Unfortunately the car was quite small which meant that even with two people sitting in the middle (Gwen and Tosh) someone had to sit on someone else's lap. Jack's lap to be precise. As Watson had collared the driver's seat and Sherlock had taken the front passenger seat and Ianto one of the rear passenger seats, only Owen was left unseated. Grumbling, he sat down gingerly on Jacks lap, then as the doors shut and Watson started the ignition, he said in a warning tone, "Harkness, if you get a hard on while I'm sitting here, I will castrate you."

"Why, of course darling." Jack replied caustically, "For your sake, I shall try not to get excited."

As all the occupants of the car, Sherlock excepted, roared with laughter, Watson started driving the car off the grassy verge. About 5 minutes later, the inevitable happened. Owen screeched and leapt sideways off of Jacks lap, smashing his head against the car roof and landing across the backseat with his face in Ianto's crotch, who said calmly, "Owen, remove your face from my groin _now_ or suffer the consequences."

Owen, who had been dazed by his collision with the roof, jack knifed suddenly, hitting the roof again, though this time he ended up sitting in Gwen's lap. Jack and Watson considered this to be hilarious, the girls were slightly shocked, Ianto was impossible to read, Sherlock was shaking his head in disbelief, and Owen was scowling and rubbing his head.


End file.
